it’s new year’s eve
and fireworks paint the sky
i paint myself into a blank canvas
but the undercoats & messy strokes remain.
maybe i shouldn’t start over,
maybe i should finish the masterpiece, i think.
new year’s eve and my friends are laughing in a distance
“i’m loved, i’m loved”
i say to myself.
if i start the year being so loved,
what is there to be afraid of?
isn’t love the resolution of it all?
what do we want in our years?
to be loved,
and everything else that concerns love -
our finances, that allow for love to be secure
our friendships, that allow for love to be around in the laughter,
our relationships, that allow for love to be lived like a story,
our families, that allow for love to be a precondition - that allow love to be despite, and not because.
isn’t everything we do just an attempt of feeling loved?
in the new year,
i will be loved,
but i promise not to beg for it,
i promise to give it out, all that i have of it
and if it finds its way back, i’d welcome it with open arms.
in the new year,
i want to be loved, but most importantly,
i want to love loving.
i want to be loved for being.
i want love to feel easy when it occurs,
but i’m okay knowing it won’t come easy,
because love is a practice, and you must in the work.
so in the new year i will love working towards love,
and if i mess a few brush strokes in the painting,
it will still look whole,
shaded with the people that i have loved.
in the new year i will create a masterpiece of love,
and they will frame it in the museums,
they will say -
the love was here.
the love will always be there,
in the new years to come.


























